


Break

by mutedtempest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, this is sad and i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 23:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutedtempest/pseuds/mutedtempest
Summary: Allura never got a chance to grieve. She was traumatized by genocide and woke up immediately after (to her mind) and forced to fight a ten thousand year old war that she'd pretty much missed entirely. But she still saw her planet destroyed and many she cared about killed.Lotor didn't see the destruction of Altea and feels he has no real right to mourn it, but he understands that Allura can't be an incredibly strong warrior constantly. Allowing her to break down is the least he can do.





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in the six months that they were together. They're working on Sincline and it brings up memories of her father, and Allura needs to leave because she can feel an emotional breakdown coming on. Initially she doesn't want Lotor to see it, but he insists on helping her in any way he can.
> 
> This is sad and I'm sorry, but as a trauma survivor myself those thoughts don't just go away. Poor girl needs to grieve.

He hadn't known the destruction of Altea. Hadn't lived it, though he supposed that if he wanted to be pedantic he could argue that he'd lived through the destruction of Daibazaal. Still, even his ten thousand decaphoebes of war and violence and the horrors he'd seen didn't come close to touching the pain of witnessing a genocide, and he was well aware of that. He was more than happy to discuss Altea and King Alfor, but he was exceedingly careful never to mention anything having to do with the destruction of the planet itself or the annihilation of the Altean people. 

Allura never spoke of the war before the genocide had taken place. She was far more focused on the current state of it, and on how much the machine they were crafting was going to help end it. He understood. Even if not from direct experience, he knew well how much easier it was to focus on the future than to risk brushing against a festering past that had never been cauterized effectively. Just because the infection was no longer spreading didn't mean that touching it wouldn't result in agony.

Still, the fact that she carried trauma like a weight around her neck was more than obvious. She'd mentioned to him several times that the Paladins simply weren't interested in listening to her speak of Altea, and while his immediate reaction to that was nothing short of a blinding rage, they were children. Ones for whom this war was a brand new experience. They could never be expected to understand that Allura wanting to talk about Altea was more than simply because she missed it - they just had no idea that the blackness of such a trauma was all encompassing even when directly facing a supernova.

Her Black Paladin would have been the only one able to empathize with her in any way that would matter. Even better than Lotor himself, really. But he'd seen the far off look that was sometimes present in Shiro's eyes and doubted the man would have been able to bear Allura's pain when his own was so prevalent. Still, Lotor felt terrible for both of them. They must feel as alone as he himself had for so many millennia before much of his pain had either numbed or simply turned cold.

"Harmonia used to do that," she said suddenly to his left, poking her head out from the section of the ship she'd been attempting to secure some quintessence pathways in. She looked exhausted, but he couldn't stop his quick grin at how utterly _cute_ she was with her hair in disarray and the smudges of oils and other chemicals on her face and clothing. 

"Oh?" he asked, not sure what or who she was referring to, but happy to stop his work for a bit to listen.

"You're chewing on that pen," she answered after a moment. "Harmonia was one of the students who helped my father with Voltron. Every time I'd sneak into the labs she'd be doing the same." There was a very subtle change in her tone as she said it, and Lotor decided not to press. Instead, he smiled.

"I didn't realize I was doing it. I suppose we can blame my fangs - I tend to find things to chew when I'm distracted." He'd only been using the pen intermittently to mark positionings on the ship schematics. Perhaps it was old fashioned of him, but he felt more secure having hard copies of important documents rather than leaving them all on datapads or other such systems. 

He rather expected her to make a joke about Dayak not approving of such things, but when he glanced back at her, she seemed deep in thought. Almost troubled.

"Alteans don't have fangs..." It was such a soft murmur that he'd have missed it if all his concentration hadn't been on her. "Didn't." That was a whisper, and he found himself growing quite concerned. But Allura smiled and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, it's not important. I suppose I've just been working too hard..."

"You have. As much as I love having you here, you really should get some rest. I promise you the ship will still be here afterward," he replied softly, approaching the ship with his hand extended to help her down. There was a distinct tension in the air that he wasn't able to pinpoint, but she definitely seemed bothered.

"She died," Allura whispered as she stumbled down to the floor, Lotor's arm barely in time to catch her before she fell. He said nothing, more because he had no desire to make it worse than because he didn't want to offer comfort, and she laughed softly. "I think you're right. I should rest. You probably should too."

"That would be the best course of action, I'm sure," he replied, giving her a gentle smile. "May I see you to your rooms?"

He could instantly see that she was trying to withdraw; there was even a slight flinch away from the hand he held out to her. "I'm sure that won't be necessary..."

"Perhaps not, but I'd like to, if it will cause you no discomfort."

She looked at him for a moment, eyes glassy with an emotion he couldn't name, before she finally nodded. As they started to walk, she leaned into him, and he happily let her. "I'm sorry. Working on the ship just brings back so many memories."

"It's perfectly all right. I'd be very surprised if it didn't. You're always free to discuss any of it with me, Allura. There's no shame in doing so." It was the most direct he'd been on the topic yet, and she stopped to study him for a moment just before they reached the doors to her chambers.

"No, no shame. But I worry that if I start I might not be able to stop." The statement was rather raw as she opened the doors and stepped inside, turning around to face him. "Thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine from here..." But she looked as though the last thing she needed was to be left alone.

"I won't demand that you talk about it, Princess. But trying to hold it all inside isn't strength. You're one of the strongest I've ever met, but burdens such as these must be brought into the light or they merely continue to hurt." The words were very soft as he brushed a wisp of hair from her face. For a moment, he worried he'd overstepped their carefully constructed boundaries, until he saw a hint of a tear in the corner of her eye.

"It's cruel of me to waste time on memories when I could be working to save others from Altea's fate," she protested, but her words were shaky. She did step aside to let him in, though, and he took her into his arms immediately as she shut the doors behind them.

"It's not cruel to be in pain, Allura."

"Isn't it? I was in pain when Father forced me into the cryotube, and I _slept_ while they..." She trailed off as Lotor directed her to the bed, but he was very glad when she pulled him down as well. "Forgive me. I tend to get emotional when I'm tired."

"There's nothing wrong with being emotional, my love. You haven't been able to grieve for all those you've lost, or to deal with the things you've seen. It is not weakness to have those things affect you. I am only sorry I've been avoiding the topic for so long now. I simply wasn't sure you were ready to speak of it."

"I don't know that I am, entirely. But it...hurts when the memories hit. Sudden flashes of faces and parts of sentences, landscapes...fire. I'm not certain it will be coherent."

"I don't need to understand it. But the point of this is that you do need to grieve for it all, even if it's merely bits and pieces for now. Dealing with such an overwhelming trauma is a long process, I'm afraid, and one that makes little sense. If it's not now, that's perfectly fine, but I'm happy to hold you regardless. This is for you, not for me, and I require no explanation of anything."

She didn't respond verbally, but held him a bit tighter as she looked into his eyes for a long moment. Finally, with an almost imperceptible nod, she moved her face into his shoulder. He could feel her shaking and rubbed soothing circles on her back as she began to cry.

He held her through more than a few vargas of sobs, parts of stories that cut off in the middle rather abruptly, names and dates and titles and all manner of things. He said nothing throughout, though he did hum often to try to soothe her, and responded as best he could with small sounds to let her know he was listening.

When she finally sagged against him in a deep, exhausted sleep, he pulled the blanket up over them both and rearranged her a bit for more comfort before finally allowing himself to drift off as well.

It wouldn't heal her trauma entirely, but he sincerely hoped that it could be a start.


End file.
